Good Surprises
by Ashura
Summary: 3+4 sap fix. Quatre and Trowa go for ice cream, and discuss the future.


Good Surprises

by Ashura Nagisa

archive:  desolation angels (http://www.dreamwater.net/ashura)

disclaimer:  quatre and trowa do not belong to me, and I will put them back neatly when I'm done with them.

warnings (such as they are):  shounen ai (3+4 of course!), sap

notes:  loosely, but not entirely, based on real-life events.

****

Sometimes good things happen.  For no reason, when you least expect them to, as if their only purpose were to restore your faith in people, or the world, or maybe it's not even that profound really, and the whole point is to put a smile on your face.

It was already a good night.  I was with Trowa, and we were going to have ice cream.  I was on vacation—I am entitled them, every now and again, and for the past two and a half years I'd spent every single one at a particular travelling circus.  Everyone in that circus knew me by this point, and I don't mean knew me, as in they recognised my face from a magazine, like half the rest of the world did.  I mean they'd seen me drunk, glowing, and half asleep, scared out of my mind and pissed off at the world.  The way people are really supposed to know each other.

This night it was just me and Trowa.  We'd made our excuses and escaped the monster movie marathon the others were having—not that I don't enjoy an all-night run of Godzilla and his companions as much as the next guy, but we both felt like doing something more private.  

So we went for ice cream, to this 24-hour diner named Eddie's or Freddie's or something like that, where they specialised in fattening desserts and greasy breakfasts, with a smoking section full of loud teenagers and a non-smoking section full of senior citizens out for a discount cup of coffee.  We prefer sitting among the second—Trowa's used to the smoke smell, but I think it's disgusting.  Besides, I'd like to point out our bodies have been through plenty enough already.  Having faced a quick, violent death far too many times, I'm in no real hurry to court a slow painful one.

Unless death involved ice cream and chocolate syrup.  I am a sundae addict.  Trowa thinks it's hilarious, or adorable if I play it just right, but there it is.  The chief weakness of Quatre Raberba Winner is hot fudge.  It's probably a good thing those people from ErgoGenetics didn't know that when they wanted to talk mergers, they might have tried to play dirty, and who knows what would have happened?

Pause for momentary contemplation of hot fudge on Trowa Barton's body.  Sorry, I know I'm telling a story here, but do you blame me really?  That might be the one single thing better than hot fudge on ice cream.

What do I mean, /might/?

Ahem.  Sorry.  Seventeen-year-old hormones kicking in there.  Back to the diner.  Right.

We sat down, and the waitress arrived after a while in a brown dress and sensible shoes, even though she was probably no more than twenty and had glitter blue nail polish.  Her name was Carli.  She took our orders and disappeared somewhere back into the caverns of the kitchen.  She didn't recognise me (a good thing), and kept flirting with Trowa (not so good, but I don't really blame her).  I entertained myself by trying to learn to juggle with the paper sugar packets until Trowa threatened to chop off all my fingers if I didn't stop.

And people say he doesn't communicate.  I tossed the packet in the air one more time to see what he would do.  He caught my hand and held it.  Good, that's what I was hoping for.

"I said knock it off."  He didn't even make a real attempt at sounding annoyed—just like he was trying not to laugh.  I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Promises, promises...."

"Which I'm not going to keep, if you don't fix the bedroom door or convince Catherine to spend the night somewhere else.  I'm not performing for an audience."

An answering smirk.  "That's fine, I have no intention of sharing you.  I'll fix it."

"Don't know why I even bother coming down here," I teased.  I can sound quite aggrieved when I want to.  "The plumbing's shot, half the lights don't work, and I can't even have sex with my boyfriend unless I want everybody for half a mile around knowing about it."

"/That/ is not my fault.   You're the one who's so loud—"  Trowa broke off, his head cocked to one side, considering.  "Okay, my fault then.  But we'll work around it."

"You like me loud," I reminded him.

He grinned at me, bright and sparkling, the way that used to be so incredibly rare only a year ago.  "I do," he agreed.  "And /I/ don't care if everyone knows it."

"That reminds me...."  Part of what I wanted to talk with him about, at some point on this particular vacation.  He must have picked up on the change in my voice, to something more serious, because he just sat there in silence, waiting.

Of course all that meant was that we were just looking at each other like idiots when Carli came back with dessert.  I was distracted immediately by the absolutely gargantuan sundae she plopped down in front of me.  It had BROWNIES in it.  And two cherries.  A mountain of French Vanilla ice cream smothered, /drowning/ in hot fudge.  

Heaven, I tell you.  Heaven.  Conversation, serious or otherwise, could wait.

I'm not sure if it was his banana split that was making Trowa smile, but I have a feeling it wasn't, because he kept sneaking glances at me, shaking his head, and swallowing like he didn't want to laugh.  Except when I tied the cherry pit in a knot with my tongue and spit it back out at him.  That was entirely for his benefit, and I'm sure I saw him shiver.

"So what were you starting to say?" he asked finally, as I was licking the last remains off my fingers.  His eyes followed every move.  "Before dessert came and you decided to turn into a total tease?"

"It wouldn't be teasing if you'd fix the damn door," I reminded him calmly.  Though to be completely honest, I had a feeling it wouldn't be teasing anyway, because the longer the night got, the less I cared about the door.  If Catherine wanted to watch that badly, more power to her.

But Trowa was still waiting for me to continue.  So I did.  Now that the moment had actually arrived, I was a little nervous.  "I was wondering something."

"Yes?" he prompted.

I forged ahead.  "Would you ever want to leave the circus?"

I had expected a more violent reaction—to be honest, I'd expected an emphatic "not in a million years," and for that to be the end of it.  But Trowa sat there looking thoughtful, swirling his spoon around in the melted, syrupy remains of his ice cream.  "Depends, really  How do you mean 'ever'?   I like it there, it's home.  On the other hand, I don't really see spending the rest of my life having knives thrown at my head."

Now I was the curious one.  "What /would/ you like to do?  If you had a choice of anything."

"Anything?"  he repeated archly, but the moment passed and he shrugged.  "If I could do anything in the world, I'd want to become a veterinarian."  I must have looked surprised, because he laughed a little awkwardly.  "Well, I would.  I already like animals better than people, usually, and blood and shit don't bother me, so I've got a start there, right?"

I could feel the smile break across my face, I couldn't stop it even though I was really afraid for a minute that my cheeks were going to crack right open with it.  "That's perfect!"

He stared at me, puzzled.  "Huh?"

I explained.  "I was asking you because—well, honestly I didn't think you'd say anything like that.  I thought you'd say no, when I asked if you'd ever consider leaving.  But—well, I'm going to college, Trowa.  I got the acceptance letter last week, and already filled out the paperwork and everything so that I can take the next four years off to get a degree.  I'm going to earth.  And even though I didn't think you'd say yes, I wanted to ask if you'd come with me."

Trowa blinked at me, incredulous.  "What do you mean you didn't think I'd say yes?  Of course I'll go with you."  His hand stole across the table, spoon abandoned, to wrap around my fingers.  "Sure, this is home, but you silly git, I'd rather be with you than anywhere else."

I blushed.  There wasn't a lot I could say to that.

"What are you going to study?" he asked.

"Music." 

One raised eyebrow.  He does that so well.  I shifted under his gaze.  "Well, it's not like I have to worry about finding a job after.  But I'll study business at least a bit as well."  If only to satisfy the practical side of my brain that kept insisting the next four years were /not/ an extended vacation.  "But this is even better, Trowa, you can start...pre-vet classes, or whatever it's called."

A low chuckle.  "I don't see how.  I'm delighted for you, Quatre, and of course I'll move with you, but I can't afford tuition and you know it."

"Hmph.  You're brilliant, I'm sure you can get a scholarship.  There's bunches of 'em out there."

"Really?"  For the first time his eyes held the hint that he was actually considering the idea.  "I haven't looked into stuff like that too much, do you think there's one I could get?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it.  And if there isn't, I'll make one for you."  I said it joking, but I wasn't really.  I could, and happily would, pay Trowa's way through college just as easily as my own.  And probably about three hundred other people, if I really wanted, before it even made a sizable dent in my resources.  Actually, maybe setting up some scholarships was a good idea anyway.  I'd have to talk to Dhavi about it when I got back.

"Wow."  He let out a low whistle, shaking his head as if it desperately needed to be cleared of cobwebs.  "And here I was just expecting we'd go out and get ice cream.  You are full of surprises sometimes."

"Mm.  Good surprises, though."

"Very."

"You ready to go?"  I smiled sweetly at him.  "If we get back before the others are done watching Godzilla movies, you won't have to fix the door."

He laughed, sliding out of the booth and hauling me up beside him.  He pressed me back against the table for a moment, rocking against me in that subtle, demanding, intoxicating way he was so good at, and I went a little dizzy.  "Better hurry up then, hm?"

Hurry.  Right.  Had to remember to breathe first.  I pushed him back.  "Gotta get into my back pocket—wallet—"  He didn't move back much, though, and by the time I fished out my wallet and we got to the cash register, I wasn't the only one who was looking a little lightheaded.

"Have a good night," said Carli, waving.

I paused.  "Um, our bill—"

She shook her head.  "That guy paid it already."

Trowa and I traded bewildered looks.  "What guy?"

She pursed her lips, thinking hard.  "At the table across from you, I thought you must be with him.  Hold on."  She hit a button on the register and the drawer popped open; after a moment's rummaging she passed over a receipt for a banana split, a hot fudge sundae, and a cup of discount coffee.  "See?"

"There's something on the back," Trowa observed, taking the slip out of my hand and turning it over.  He was right.  A note, in careful, spidery handwriting.

"Tell the nice young men," it said, "that it is a great pleasure to this old man to see two happy young people planning a future together.  And good luck.  And study hard.  And that the door is not really that important, though the plumbing might be."

I was grinning again.  It's not just that it was free ice cream.  I can swing a couple of sundaes without really worrying about the finances of it.  But it was /nice/.

Somebody being nice, for no reason except that they wanted to be.

Sometimes good things happen, and not for any reason at all.

[fin.]


End file.
